


Cross Contamination

by enigmaticblue



Series: Sun 'Verse [33]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Apocalypse, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 03:32:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: Castiel only needs to make a mistake once. Too bad this is a big one.





	Cross Contamination

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt “food poisoning.” For real, kitchen safety is important, guys. Salmonella is no joke. Set sometime after The 5 P's, during the winter of 2010/2011.

The first sign something had gone horribly wrong was the sound of retching, waking Castiel from a deep sleep. Dean moaned next to him, and said, “Cas, you gotta help me up. I’m going to be sick.”

 

“I think someone already is,” Castiel replied. “I can hear them.”

 

Dean moaned and rolled over onto his side, apparently aiming for an area of the floor that wasn’t covered by their bed. Castiel grimaced, not used to such things. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Dean replied. “It could be a stomach bug.”

 

“What kind of bug lives in your stomach?” Castiel asked.

 

Dean laughed weakly. “It’s not a literal bug, it’s a virus, an illness. Sometimes humans get sick, and it tends to be highly contagious. Help me up. I’ll clean up in here a little later.”

 

“I’ll get it,” Castiel replied grimly. “You’re sick.”

 

Ben was slumped against the side of the tub, his skin pale and sweaty. “You’re sick, too, Dad?”

 

“Yeah, so if you don’t mind using the upstairs bathroom,” Dean prompted.

 

Ben clambered up slowly. “Okay.”

 

“Cas will keep an eye on you,” Dean said, then lurched at the toilet.

 

Ben headed out quickly as soon as Dean started retching.

 

“What should I do?” Castiel asked.

 

“Go check on Bobby,” Dean managed to say. “Make sure he’s not sick, too.”

 

When Castiel entered the dining room where Bobby had set up his room, Bobby was sleeping peacefully and snoring lightly. Castiel breathed a sigh of relief, although he wondered why Dean and Ben would be so sick when Bobby was sound asleep.

 

Castiel had a passing acquaintance with cleaning these days since Dean wasn’t up to it, and neither was Bobby most of the time. At least, he thought he could figure it out.

 

He managed to get the floor cleaned up, and then he went to check on Ben, because he knew Dean would ask first thing.

 

The upstairs bathroom door was closed, and when Castiel knocked, Ben called out, “Don’t come in!”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

There was a pause. “It’s coming out both ends.”

 

Castiel didn’t know what that meant, but he felt it impolite to ask. “Let me know if you need anything.”

 

Dean was still on the floor when Castiel went back downstairs. “How’s Ben?” he asked first thing.

 

At least Castiel knew Dean that well. “He says it’s coming out of both ends, but I don’t know what that means.”

 

“It means he’s got diarrhea.”

 

Castiel knew what _that_ meant. “Are you okay?”

 

“Well, I feel like ass, and I’ve been sick enough that I know it’s probably going to get worse before it gets better,” Dean said, a wry note in his voice. “Did you clean up the floor?”

 

“Yes, of course,” Castiel replied. “If you tried, you would probably just get sick again.”

 

“True,” Dean admitted. “I’m sorry you got stuck with this, man.”

 

Castiel shook his head. “I am happy to take care of you, Dean. You and Ben.”

 

“You’re the best,” Dean replied, then rolled towards the toilet again.

 

Castiel spent the night going up and down the stairs, checking on Ben, sometimes through the closed door, and then on Dean. Dean told Castiel to make sure Ben drank some fluids if possible, and Castiel supplied him with glasses of water and cold washcloths on Dean’s suggestion.

 

When Bobby woke up the next morning, he checked in on Dean, and then asked to see Castiel in the kitchen. “I need to ask you a couple of questions,” Bobby said.

 

“Yes, of course,” Castiel replied.

 

Bobby nodded. “You made chicken last night.”

 

Castiel hesitated. “Yes, but you didn’t eat any of it. You said you weren’t feeling well.”

 

Bobby grimaced. “I had some canned soup. This is important—did anything touch the raw chicken that also touched something you didn’t cook?”

 

Castiel thought about the question. One of Bobby’s friends had offered them a chicken, which Bobby had told him how to cook. He had followed the instructions to the letter, except for putting the carrots in with the chicken. Ben didn’t like cooked carrots, but would eat them raw, and he knew that a growing child needed the vitamins and minerals in vegetables.

 

“The carrots perhaps,” Castiel replied. “But I’m not certain. Why?”

 

Bobby sighed. “That’s my fault. I should have been clearer. Raw chicken contains salmonella, which is dangerous for humans. That’s why chicken has to be completely cooked, and why you have to be careful about cross contamination. We’ll go over it in more detail the next time. For right now, we need to look after Dean and Ben.”

 

Castiel felt guilt, which wasn’t a familiar emotion for him. “I’m sorry.”

 

“You couldn’t know,” Bobby said and patted Castiel on the arm as he passed. “I didn’t make it clear, and I should have.”

 

Castiel remembered Bobby mentioning that he should wash his hands after handling raw chicken, but he hadn’t even thought about the need to thoroughly clean the knife after cutting up the chicken and before cutting up the carrots. He thought he might have been distracted by Dean.

 

Or, more accurately, Dean feeling well enough to check up on dinner, and getting around a little better than he had recently.

 

“You told me I should wash my hands,” Castiel replied, stricken. “I should have been more careful.”

 

“Cas,” Bobby said gently. “This wasn’t on you. Even when you’re careful, cross contamination happens. Look, I’ve got Dean, you go up and check on Ben. And you’ll know better the next time you handle raw chicken.”

 

“Is it dangerous?” Castiel asked.

 

Bobby hesitated. “Well, it’s not great, but I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

 

That wasn’t exactly reassuring, but Castiel was willing to believe him.

 

The next few days weren’t pleasant, but while Dean and Ben were sick and uncomfortable, they never got any worse, and after the first 24 hours, they made steady improvements.

 

When Dean was clearly on the mend, Castiel decided that he needed to come clean. They were lying in bed, still huddling together for warmth, when Castiel said, “It was my fault.”

 

“What’s your fault?” Dean asked sleepily.

 

“I think I poisoned you.”

 

“On purpose?” Dean asked, sounding a lot more alert.

 

“No, but I think I may have had made you ill with the chicken,” Castiel admitted miserably. “I’m sorry. If it was my fault—”

 

“Cas, stop,” Dean said, rolling over to look at him. “Man, even if it was food poisoning, it was an accident, okay? These things happen. You learn a lesson, and you don’t do it again. It sucked, but it wasn’t fatal, and we’ll be fine.”

 

“Dean—”

 

“No, you cook, you cleaned up my puke, you looked after Ben,” Dean replied. “Even if that’s what happened, and we don’t know for sure it did, you’re doing fine. There’s no apology necessary.”

 

Castiel rested his head against Dean’s shoulder. “I’m still sorry.”

 

“And I’m still okay,” Dean replied, smoothing down Castiel’s hair. “We’re okay. And we got another couple of days of supplies out of it. So, silver lining.”

 

“Only you would think that,” Castiel said fondly, but he couldn’t help but love Dean for it.


End file.
